‘Me and my dad found it on a trading trip last winter,’ Conor said. ‘I’ve been saving it for you.’

‘Wow!’ Joe tested the blade on his thumb. ‘Ouch. It’s sharp!’ A red bubble of blood swelled up.

‘Told you, idiot,’ Conor teased.

‘Oi.’ Joe sheathed the blade and elbowed Conor.

‘He means thank you,’ Amina said.

‘Thank you, Conor. I do mean it.’ He tucked the knife carefully in the inside pocket of his white jacket.

‘My turn!’ Amina said, and took out a tiny parcel wrapped in purple silk. She handed it over. The sunlight turned her eyes amber-gold and made her brown skin glow against the pale scarf. Her smile was very wide and very white. She hugged him quickly and said, ‘I made it for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Joe was touched. The bundle fell open in a 19blur of jewel-bright colours. On the small piece of fabric was woven a purple dragon in flight against a background of deep blue, with a border of multi-coloured hexagonal shapes all interlinked.

Another purple dragon! It was a sign. ‘It’s amazing,’ he said. ‘Really!’

‘When did you get so good, Amina?’ Conor leaned over, sounding impressed.

‘I’ve been doing it in the evenings when the day’s work’s done.’

‘It must have taken ages!’ Joe said.

Amina’s cheeks grew rosy pink. ‘That blue, that’s made with indigo from the Silk Islands.’ Her family of weavers had come from there and settled on Arcosi a few generations back. ‘And I blended the red myself, from madder root …’

Joe folded it carefully, putting it in his other pocket. The day felt even more special. He wanted to say how lucky he was. How good it felt to have friends who knew him like Conor and Amina did. ‘You two! It’s … I’m … you know?’ The words failed him, and he just stood there grinning at them. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Conor said, grinning back.

‘Five minutes!’ the dragonguard yelled at them. ‘Final positions, please!’

In silence, they all stared towards the end of the street. They’d rehearsed for this. They knew what would happen, but it was still awe-inspiring.

Every head turned to watch the procession of dragons 20and the egg-carriage rolling slowly down the wide main street that circled the island like a snake.

Joe caught a glimpse of Ravenna, the mother dragon, striding just in front of the dragonguards pulling the car­riage. As she passed the end of the street, she filled the gap entirely. Joe saw her black wings folded, her long scaly back, her claws sparking against the cobbles. As if she sensed him, she turned her huge head, glared at him through yellow eyes and hissed.

He gasped. He’d known mother dragons were protective, but it was a whole different matter when it was aimed at him.

There was no time left: they started walking too, follow­ing the procession down the main street. Joe looked over the heads of the others, realising he was the tallest one there.